


A Regular Space Opera

by ZombieZombie



Category: Homestuck, Original Work
Genre: Angst and Anxiety Abound, Casual Description of Horrible Things, Character Development, Gen, General Narrative Fuckery (TM), Implied Drug Use, Impolite Language, Mentioned violence, No Proofreading We Die Like Trolls, Non-Linear Narrative, Referenced Kidnapping, Use of Gendered Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 12:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17787365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieZombie/pseuds/ZombieZombie
Summary: A series of short stories about Homestuck fancharacter getting into trouble among the stars. Starring Gausia Archon; an anthropomorphized ball of anxiety, and Atrimx Oswick; someone who takes playing by the rules as an uninformed suggestion.





	1. Hope: A Longing

Sitting in the squeaky pleather of your flight chair, you take a deep breath in a vain attempt of reigning control of something in this helpless situation. This several perigee long daymare continues, and it does not seem to have an end in sight. But maybe, just maybe, you can wrangle control of your emotions for a few moments? Perhaps maybe, after the countless fuck-ups you created, you may have some peace in your heart and mind?

… Signless, you can’t wait to be alone and bawl your eyes out.

Your name is Gausia Archon, and where the hell do you begin with this mess?

\----

You think it started back when you got sick, but, it may have really started happening when you got kidnapped by your ancestor. Man, that was something, wasn’t it? Taken to become your ancestor’s perfect descendant, only to be saved by your… friends? They were friends, at least, but you don’t really know where they went off to To be fair, they probably don’t know where you went off too, just because you went nearly everywhere trying to continue your work.

With your hive infected by ancestor-turned-computer-virus, it lead to you bouncing around to different hubs and labs to make ends meet. Well, you didn’t really have to make ends meet, being a blueblood and all, but having your inventions locked away did make things more difficult. Living out of an apartment was not something you were really fond of, and not being able to work on your own stuff? An emotional low point, at the very least.

The work that you put yourself through ended paying off, up until you were given the chance to go to a science convention with no expense. Normally, you would be all for this, but a number of deaths and inconveniences led you to the show floor, in front of hundreds of trolls judging you harshly! In fact, the… troll? Ship? The person you were helping showcase ended up flipping out at you and running! It led to a confusing and awkward confrontation with her, and an even more awkward confrontation with her… handler? Lover? Even thinking of it now makes you queasy.

That convention left you with one hell of a case of the con flu. Honestly, it was one of the worst sicknesses you ever felt, making you weak in the knees and hacking up a lung! And the headaches, ugh, those were the worst headaches you ever felt, and you’ve had migraines that could kill lower bloods! It was so bad, that a co-worker of yours called for medical help! You wish you could thank her, honestly, because in all honesty, it did sound like you were dying. Too bad she is also kind of to blame here.

The flu that you ended up getting, surprise surprise, was a psionic flu. Turns out, this entire time, you had psionic capabilities, and were able to do magnificent things with the power of your mind! After (a lot) of testing (somewhere), it was deduced that you have the power to make things happen! Not in the form of charisma, personality, or mundane like that, no. If you say it, think it, and really believe in it, it will happen! Now, how they got to that conclusion, you’ve yet to find out, because you’ve been wishing that you never had outlets drilled into your brain and spinal column, and somehow they just haven’t disappeared yet. Maybe you have to tap your heels together?

… It’s hard to even muster the energy to be spiteful, especially in your situation. This is not the sort of future you wanted, nor was it what you… really wanted for anyone, now that you think about it. But here you are, being shipped out to where ever they want you to go. It’s all been a blur, but you know one thing is for certain: you aren’t on Alternia anymore. You’ve been bounced to station to station, presumably being sent… somewhere on a front? Space itself threw off any sense of direction you may have had planet-side, and it feels as if you are just going around in circles.

This whole time as well, there is a gnawing sense of fear and panic in your head. You weren’t always the creme of the crop, but you were still a highblood, damn it. Why isn’t anyone telling you what’s going on? Why aren’t your questions being answered? Can’t you at least know where you are going? The added looks you’ve been receiving by some of your other… passengers have not been so healthy either. Nearly everywhere you go, you see people like yourself behind desks busing people around, and shoving you onto transports filled with. Well. More seasoned types. Taller, stronger, some are even missing limbs and organs due to combat. Like a sheep in a wolves den, you feel like prey to them.

This must be how it feels to know that you’re going to die, right? Wherever you are going, it’s going to be a planet full of hell, and you are going to die. It’s also going to be a painful death too, isn’t it? One where it’s drawn out, like being trapped under rubble in a burning building. Or is it going to be a planet filled with rebels, where they put highbloods on poles as a warning! No, it’s going to be someone from your past, like a fellow scientist, getting a hold of one of your guns, putting it to your skull and melt the flesh off of your face! It has to be a set up, right? No highblood would get fooled like this, only some dipshit like you would fall for it, this is your punishment for trying to be smart and push boundaries! It’s your fault, you are going to die, you are going to be miserable and you are going to suffer for all the things you’ve done wrong and what Alternia did wrong and what highbloods have done wrong and what crimes you committed and what your ancestor did, has done, and will do in your name in your absence because you know that she is doingsomethingtoruinyourlifeonalterniaandeveryonewillhateyouandbegladyouaredeadandwillcrytearsofjoywhenthenewshitstheirdoormatthattheshittyworthlessstupidawfuldumbpsionicwasteoffuckingspaceisdeadandgoneforeverandeverand

Just as your ship docks, an explosion rumbles.

Gun fire pings about the cabin.

Screams.

Another explosion.

Silence.

You hear the sound of a door being kicked down, and a booming voice.

“The Top Bitch sends their fucking regards!”


	2. Tale: A Rambling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the villain of the hour, Atrimx Oswick. Who are they, and what are they doing here, exploding into a secure space station guns ablazing? Don't worry, they're about to tell you, and every other nitty gritty detail you may or may not want to know. Take a seat, this might be a while.

Now, you are probably wondering. Who is this Top Bitch, where are they from, and how can I get their autograph? Well, sugar, you are just in luck, because I loooove talking about my fine ass self. My name is Atrimx Oswick. You can call me Mx., Sir, Ma’am, sweetheart of the stars, troll of my dreams, or whatever tickles your damn fancy. Now, some of you are probably wondering, ‘Atrimx? Aren’t they that troll that bothers people online, steals private information, gets into a bar fight, and steals your girl all in one night on Alternia?  _ That _ Atrimx Oswick?’

 

Guess what, babe, you are absolutely right. How did I get myself into this Empirical Caravan carrying VIPs, blasting bastards who think they can fuck with a bad bitch like myself? Well, honey, when life comes at you hard and heavy, you gotta respond just in kind. See, if you wanna know why little old me is being a giant menace across the galaxy, we gotta do some backtracking. All the way back to when I was first about ready to get drafted. Buckle in, trolls and gills, because you are getting the uncut treatment!

 

Looks can fool, I know, but I wasn’t always this handsome brother-fucker that you see before you. When I was a little troll at ten sweeps year old, I was scared. Tough, rugged, and been through it all, but scared! I had a lovely moirail and a whole big planet that I was not ready to let go of, and I would go down kicking and screaming before they shoved me into a tin can and fired me into space! I wasn’t also going to die for some gills either, but that’s a different story.

 

So, what my moirail and I try to do? Well, first of all, we don’t try shit, we DO shit. And what we do, is that we fake our deaths with their planning, and with my technical hacking magic, I make absolutely sure that we are fucking dead and buried. Wiped our names out of the system for good outside of an obituary. It was kind of a hack job, looking back at it, but you know what? It fucking worked, and for that alone I was fucking proud. Hell, I still am! 

 

Now, sweeps pass by, things change, people come and go. I haven’t spoken to my ex-moirail in ages, but I know their scraggly ass is surviving. But shit, I did everything with my new freedom. Bought drugs, sold drugs, partied all night, got piercings, partied all day, join a gang, take over the gang, burn all that shit down because I was sick of it, the list goes ON. For a long time, though? I sold drugs, stole information, sold information, and did a little escort thing on the side. Made a few good friends, made plenty of enemies too. When you live the life you wanna live, people are going to find ways to hate on you regardless. Nothing a few bullets can’t fix anyway, right?

 

Well, turns out, shit can’t always be solved with booze and bullets. Turns out, some trolls refuse to fucking die. Turns out, when those trolls refuse to die, they tend to go sucking up to whatever powers at be they got, to make sure they don’t die again. Fucked up shit, huh? Before I know it, the Imps have my name in the books again, and they want to serve my ass up with fries and a drink to the courts. I’m the only one who’s allowed to make scenes, here, so I said fuck that shit, and bounce from my lovely little pad in the city to my bunker in the desert. Nobody fucks with a desert, right? No one goes digging for bones when the bones bite back, right?

 

See, one thing the Empire doesn’t want you to know, is that when you work for the Empire, you are not just an employee, but actually a part of the Empire itself. Well no shit, you’re probably saying, that’s the 101 sort of shit you are telling me here. If you let me finish, I’d be telling you that they watch your ass closely if you are valuable. They monitor what you eat, drink, fuck, smoke, everything. Little Mx me here was not only causing seams with their hacking, but with all the blow and grass I was peddling, they thought they could send a message, through me, that the drug shit ain’t going to be tolerated anymore.

 

Now, of course, I look after my customers first, scrub a few names off of suspected buyers, and make sure they don’t lose their heads over this shit. Some of the scrubs look cute in a uniform, you know? Gotta protect your future investments. But after that? I was taking all the data I could carry on my back and gunning it out of the desert. When I was flying my ass out of there, I looked down at all of the drones and shit combing the desert like it was their life’s goal. I hope they don’t find shit, but damn and a half if they did. That place was fucking comfy.

 

Your pal here can read writing when it’s on the wall, and it said ‘Get your ass out of Alternia.’ So, I did just that. How? Shit, first off I got some gear. It’s not just talking about good shit to wear but shit to install into your body as well. Wetware. Your folx over here is the future of hacking, ladies and gentlemen, because with the caegers I spent my ass better fucking be. Now, one of the key things that I got installed was a personal navigation system, compatible with damn near every ship that flies or has flown. Having near the control of being helmed in, without having to be helmed in. Dude told me to be careful sharing this shit with helms, but that shit ain’t happening regardless, I’m no fucking Fed.

 

Anyway, before you know it my ass was armed to the teeth and ready to bust out of this hellhive. Now, the only problem I had with living the planet was actually getting a damn ship that could fly my ass out of here. It took a bit of schmoozing and boozing, but needless to say? I borrowed a friend’s ride, and they aren’t looking for it right now. If they were someone important? I’ll solve that shit when I get back to Alternia, ‘cause my ass was star bound. I kinda skipped a part where I was suppose to learn how to fly, but really? That shit was easy, just jack my thinkpan into the computer and it basically did the job by itself. Maybe had to grab the wheel a few times to be safe, but what do you know? Absolute natural of a god damn flyer, and let no one tell you otherwise.

 

Still following me here, kiddos? Because we are getting to the good stuff here. With my ass in the stars, part one of my plan was pretty much done with a nice little bow on it. Part two was the hard shit. Here I am, sitting up here, looking at the stars like I never saw them before, literally starstruck, before I realized. I had nowhere to fucking go. You can’t just live inside your personal ship all the time, that shit ain’t healthy, sanitary, and more importantly, not the sorta thing I’m gonna fucking deal with if I got the choice. So I pick a direction and gunned that shit like it was nothing. If you ever plan on escaping the planet, kids, don’t do that. Turns out it gets a lot of people’s attention.

 

You see a fancy little space shuttle flying around, and you gotta think that the rider is driving in style, right? That they are one cool, probably rich, probably the god damn cat’s meow? Not only would you be absolutely correct, but it would also be the assumption about ten or so pirates thought too. One ship? By itself? In the middle of nowhere? Into their little lap? Oh shit, those guys probably thought they were going to be on some quick payday. Life, though, has it’s surprises. 

 

They start flagging my ass down, and I am just cruising along minding my own goddamn business like a normal troll. Then, they start trying to make me pull over, and I am like ‘Fuck you’ like, once again, a normal fucking troll. Last thing I know, they got my engines disabled and are pulling me into one of their bigger ships, and I’m just fucking tired of shit at this rate. Some big fuck knocks on the cockpit window like they are some sort of traffic cop, I open the door and blast their fucking head off. I heard someone go ‘Oh shit’, someone scream, and another person laughing their damn ass off up above. I roll out, gun ready, and everyone is just staring at me like I’m some sort of fucking weirdo.

 

The dude that’s their captain or whatever was like ‘chill girl’ and I was like ‘i ain’t your girl’ and they’re like ‘shit alright’. Long story short, I kinda fucked over some dude they used as an intimidater, but they liked my gumption enough not to kill me over it. Apparently some trolls, like… don’t just go around killing fuckers in their way? Weird, right? Still, this clown captain was like ‘you kinda fucked up but you can repay it by doing shit around the ship’ and i was like ‘id say no but my ass is kinda grounded here’, and they were like ‘yeah kinda rough bargain huh’. Was I captured? I mean shit, they didn’t treat me like a slave, so I guess not? They didn’t let me leave either. Kinda fucked up, right?

 

I love you for sitting through all this horseshit, but I know what you’re thinking. “What the fuck does this have to do with the price of eggs in Jejunes?” Guess what, grubs and guppies, we are at that point right now! These pirate fuckers are all about doing odd jobs and shit, because apparently the Empire don’t give too much of a fuck protecting all the shit it owns. Turns out the Empire is fucking huge and shit? I always thought it was a bunch of needless propaganda and shit but they weren’t fucking kidding. Anyway, turns out there was a hit for some guy on an Empirical Transport that does some real shady shit. Like we aren’t talking about my shady shit, we are talking about 50 Shades of Shady Shit, folxs. We are talking about a guy who was wanted for shit he did to his own troops and got away with it. Dude looked like a movie villain, too; missing an arm, an eye, and had his entire midsection replaced with cybernetics and nanomachine goo. Type of dude you wouldn’t even dream of seeing on Alternia, or in any of those propaganda videos either.

 

Now, this station was sort of a dead area. It was too far away from the action to get major protection, and it wasn’t around any super important planets, so virtually no or very little drones and Imps coming through. This place itself was known for being Wild West-y and shit, too, to the point where some of the people that live on there play the part of cowboys and shit. Yeah, no, I thought that shit was weird too, but it’s most people’s first taste of space nonsense. This is apparently a normal thing too? Like who the fuck came to this station and thought ‘man, this place is wild, but you know what would take it to the next level? Fucking cowboy hats.”

 

Shit, you gotta forgive me, because there is just too much shit that I’m still recovering from it myself. Either way, we were chilling for about an hour or two before the ship finally started to dock. Now, the clown and company said that there’d be about four or so Empire people armed on the ship, the rest being a bunch of stragglers and shit. The most important thing, this is the clown person speaking, is ‘no motherfucker opens the door but us.’ That’s when this scraggly looking dude slapped some plastic on that bitch, waited for the airlocks to seal, and then blasted that bitch open.

 

I blast one fucker in the head before he can get his hand on the gun, and the company was able to waste the other three without much problem. One of them grazed my shin, but nothing too life threatening you know? Once again, pop the plastic, blast the door, and incomes the baddest motherfucker of them all, you know them, you love them, me. That’s where we’re going to pick back up on, alright? Thanks for sticking with me, sugar, I owe you a drink for hanging in there. 

 


	3. Sorrows: A Spilling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Gausia Archon, a (mad) scientist turned psionic oddity in record time. What exactly happened after our villain made their dramatic entrance? Did anyone get away unscathed? Just who is the 'Top Bitch' after? Your answers may or may not be answered, because this is taking place only a short few hours after the events!

… So, this is how we are doing this now? I mean, you can’t just take the first person past tense story telling cat out of the bag, and uh, just… put it back in. You can’t just use it for one person, and then just snap back to hunky dory traditional storytelling. It would be like having Troll Deadpool not breaking the fourth wall for a comic book, and then going straight back to normal the next issue! It’s dumb! It’s stupid! I don’t even like this form of storytelling to begin with, it’s lazy and an excuse for the writer to do less work with the structure of the story! You just know that they are pulling that ‘unreliable narrator nonsense’, too!

 

Do I still have to say what happened? Do I really have to go through this, this dog and pony show too? I’m not a psychopath like her, I didn’t enjoy getting shot at, and… a lot of stuff happened! I couldn’t be able to go through it all! Not to mention, they could end up finding me and killing me too! … No, people kill people however they want, we’re trolls, come on. I’m not going to do it. I’d only tell if I know I will be safe. Or if someone can get me a ride to… somewhere safe? That’s… not too much to ask? Uh. Well.

 

… After the shots rang out, I hunkered down behind the chairs in front of me. The, person beside me just stayed in their seat and watched them, which I… suppose wasn’t a bad idea? That loudmouth troll had a group with them, and they weren’t just… shooting everyone? But it was still so, so terrifying? SO incredibly terrifying? I could hear their boots thumping around, before someone tried to run. They didn’t really… make it that far, someone with a taser or… a stun gun? Just got them right before they could really escape. I don’t, really know what happened to them, they were still on the floor when we were allowed to leave.

 

It must’ve been a few minutes after, that the… pirates? Gang members? Whoever. They found someone that got their attention; this really big highblood, looked like… kind of like a bad guy in a war film, the kind of wars that happen when like, an Empress dies and different heirs try to fight for the throne. But the guy was really rough looking, eye-patch and everything. The bald troll tried to talk him up, doing like… a monologue or something? I don’t know who they were, but they really liked hearing themselves talk. I peaked around my chair to see what was going on, and I nearly got kicked in the head by someone who just like, suddenly stood up.

 

It wasn’t really that funny! Or enjoyable! It sucked a lot! And after that everyone started fighting in the ship again, because apparently this guy has like… crew with him or something? Bodyguards? Or, well, I guess they could’ve just been… soldiers. That worked under him. He did have one of those big military jackets on with medals adorned all around it, so that sort of makes sense. Ah, but after that it was just a big brawl for the most part? The big guy just sort of tossed other trolls around, and I think he destroyed the bald one’s gun or something? Because she was cursing like a storm about it. Maybe it wasn’t the gun and just that she got tossed around? I don’t know, things just kept… happening.

 

I think after that, the soldiers just sorta… made way for him? But then someone shot at him and started causing a bigger fuss? That’s when a lot of things get fuzzy, because it was just so LOUD. Gunshots in an enclosed space really suck! I don’t even want to think about all of the hearing… cells, whatever they are called, uhm. I don’t even want to think about the hearing loss it caused me, is what I’m trying to say. I don’t really know when things started to clear out, but I did notice the guy right next to me just… hopped over me and headed for the door. When I didn’t hear any shocks or screams, I figured that the coast had to be clear.

 

When I stood up, it was a giant mess. There was like… a lot of people dead. I don’t even know how many because it was just kind of… everywhere? Like, blood, people, guns and stuff. It was also super colorful too? You even had like, uh, some purple in there? And maybe a seadweller color too? It was… macabre? Haha, yeah, it was kind of grim, yeah, uh… it just. Stook with me how it looked. Cold dead bodies just like, haphazard everywhere. Stepping around them like I was in a cavern of wrigglers… for, I guess similar but different reasons? But, yeah, I just… left after that.

 

Well, okay, I did pick up a gun from one of them, just for the sake of safety? But, yeah, that’s that. Now I guess I am just… here? I was wondering if anyone was going to come look for me, but it’s been… how long? I don’t even know, I guess you can’t really say, days, if you are in a station, right? Not unless we have our own orbit or something. Are we even big enough to orbit around this sun?

 

I don’t know either way. I always kind of liked space, when I was back on Alternia? But this? This… this really sucks, hahah. This really, really sucks.

 

What do I do now?


End file.
